Remembering
by Dare2dream00
Summary: Remembering loved ones is hard, but it's something we must do. One-shot.


**Tally/story/other characters(c)Dare2dream00/RandomAwesomeWeirdo**

**TMNT universe(c)Nickelodeon **

**xxxxxx**

Tally walked through the neighborhood, one hand in her pocket the other carrying a couple roses. It was that time of year again, the day she always remembered. This was an annual ritual for her ever since she was ten, and she's stuck to it. She'd go to her old house, then to the nearby graveyard and visit her parents' graves. She walked slowly down the sidewalk, feet feeling a bit heavier with each step she took. Even if she did this every year, it didn't make it any easier.

The teen walked down the path she used to walk down every Saturday, upon coming home and watching T.V. It seemed like a life time ago, the ten year old Tally once was was like a distant memory, one that she couldn't really reach. Tally studied the picket fence that was on her left as she traveled down the side walk. She studied the cracks, the knotholes, and the chips. She smiled lightly to herself as she remembered how she had jumped the fence and torn her shirt because she was chased by the neighbor's dog. Her mother had been so mad, reprehending her that the girl shouldn't be hoping fences, and that it was very un-lady like. Tally let out a small laugh as she remembered her father just barked with laughter, snorting at times, and her mother trying not to laugh as well.

Tally shook off the memory and kept on her journey, her footsteps grew heavier still. She had to keep reminding herself not to smash the roses that she had in her hand. Why was this still so hard? Even after nearly seven years? Shouldn't it have gotten easier as time passed? _No,_ Tally thought to herself as she came upon her street. _It won't ever get any easier_. Tally could almost hear the sirens, and smell the smoke on that fateful day as she laid eyes upon her house. Well, it wasn't her house anymore. Her house had burned down and the next family to move in had rebuilt. It was now a lovely two-story house, with a beautiful lush green lawn, and followers in tresses on the windows. Tally sighed as she laid eyes on the mail box. That didn't change, and it still had the painted flower that her mother had done when they first moved in.

Tally ran her fingers over it lightly, it was well faded, but one could still make out the colors. Tally let out a small smile as she thanked the heavens that the inhabitants of the house weren't home. That would have been quite an awkward conversation, trying to explain why a teenage girl was hanging around their home, stroking their mailbox.

For a while, Tally just stood on the side walk, looking at the house. She was suddenly hit with a flash back of her and her dad playing in the sprinkler on the front lawn one summer's day. She was so mad at him for picking her up and running through the sprinkler, getting her cloths all wet as well as taking her away from her chalk doodles she was doing on the sidewalk. She hadn't talked to him for a full two minutes after words.

Again, Tally shook herself free of her memory and let out a sigh, then bade farewell to the house. She walked down the sidewalk again, going to the bus stop to wait for the bus that would take her to the graveyard across town. She leaned against the post, studying the two roses in her hand. One for each of them. She gritted her teeth. Stupid Purple Dragons. Stupid drugs. Stupid arson. She had a special place for the gang, a place of resentment and hate. They were the reason her life was turned upside down and inside out, then thrown on the ground and stepped on. They were the reason. They were to blame. And she hated them for it. A deep, burning hate that she didn't think would ever go away. Tally remembered that night a couple years past, the night where the trail she followed led her to their hide out. Where she had gotten caught in the cross-fire. Where she had gotten shot. Where she met the guys. She subconsciously placed a hand on her stomach, where a scar still remained. It was faded, sure, but it was still there as a constant reminder of how lucky she actually was to even be alive. If the guys hadn't been there…

Tally looked up as the rumbling of the bus shook her out of her thoughts. It stopped and she climbed on, deposited the money, and plopped in a seat near the back. She leaned against the window, careful not to crush the roses. She was content to people watch, though there wasn't many people on the bus to watch. A middle aged man in a porkpie hat reading the paper, a young couple sucking face in the back, a woman listening to her iPod while reading and an elderly man humming to himself, looking out the window.

Tally then looked out the window as the bus rumbled on. Why did she even go on this trip every year? Why couldn't she just forget the past and move on? Because Tally didn't want to forget. She was _scared _to forget about her parents. She was afraid if she stopped going, she was going to forget. Of course Tally knew she'd never forget them, but there was always that little blip in the back of her mind. They say when a loved one dies, the memories of them fade with them. First it's their voice, their laugh. Next it's their smile, trying to remember was like trying to look at something through a fog. You get a good idea, but never fully see it. Then their smell goes. The smell of their perfume or cologne, it leaves their cloths, their house. Tally didn't want to forget, she wanted to remember, to remember all the times they shared. The dinners, the T.V time, the bedtime stories.

The bus lurched to a stop after about twenty minutes. Tally thanked the driver and hopped off. She stood at the gates of the cemetery and took a deep breathe to calm herself. She promised herself she would cry this year. But that promise was made every year, and it was always broken. But she had to hold out as long as she could. She took another breathe and walked into the cemetery. It was so quite that she could hear her own heartbeat, her footfalls on the grass made little sound, and it seemed the whole place had a hush swept over it.

Tally stopped at a single headstone in the middle of all the others, engraved with two names. The names of her parents.

_Here lies: _

_Daniel J. Thompson_

_Born: July 15, 1972_

_Died: August 12, 2005_

_A wonderful husband, father and police officer._

_Maria M. Thompson_

_Born: January 19, 1975_

_Died: August 12, 2005_

_A loving wife, mother and friend._

Tally gave a sad smile and placed the roses on top of the headstone and stepped back, putting her hands in her pockets. She cleared her throat of the sudden lump that formed there and started talking.

"Hey Mom, hey Dad," she said hoarsely. She cleared her throat again. "It's me, I..I'm okay. I miss you." She said quietly. "I miss you a lot. And I wish you were here with me." She said, wiping a stray tear. "I..I'm sixteen now," she said, forcing a smile. "I…I got my l-license. I know…I know you're gone, but I can't help but wish…wish it was somebody else. D-Does that make me a bad person?" she asked, stubbornly wiping another tear. "I just w-want you here. The guys and Master Splinter are taking good care of me. And I love them, but t-they can't replace you." She whispered. "N-no one can replace you." She said, wiping her nose. "But the guys," she said, with a small laugh, "We have f-fun times together. L-Like yesterday, M-Mikey and I played this prank on R-Raph and he was so mad…" Tally trailed off and was quiet for a spell. She listened to the sound of birds in the trees. She stared blurry-eyed at the headstone for a while. The wind picked up and she looked at her phone, she'd been there for over an hour, just standing. It was getting late, and it was time for her to go. "I love you." She said quietly, resting her hand on the stone.

Tally wiped a stray tear away and smiled, and then she started home.


End file.
